


Ashes to Oblivion

by Noxbait



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Related, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Psychological Torture, Torture, beat the devil, episode 13.21, season 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 19:33:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14625546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noxbait/pseuds/Noxbait
Summary: Tag to 13.21 "Beat the Devil." Every step he took brought pure evil closer to his family and friends. Sam had never been more powerless in his entire life. Always at the mercy of evil. Always bringing it to everyone he cared about. No matter how he tried, this was what happened every time. He wished he could just die. Not a happy story. VERY DARK. Please heed the warnings.





	Ashes to Oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> This story is not happy. It's the darkest fic I've ever written. There is nothing overly graphic, but it does deal with trauma, abuse, and rape. If this bothers you in anyway, please skip this fic. I don't want to hurt or offend anyone.
> 
> This story picks up right where the scene with Sam and Lucifer in the tunnel fades to black and fills in the blank between that scene and their arrival in the camp.
> 
> Read at your own risk.
> 
> This is my latest work and was previously posted on Fan Fiction. Net. First time posting anything here!

Ashes to Oblivion

He had no choice and they both knew it.

Trapped in a damp tunnel with the devil himself, a shiver ran down his spine and Sam took a step back. The cold, sharp stones of the wall bit into his shoulders and reminded him there was no way out of this place. No way out of this situation.

"There never was a way out, Sammy," the devil said, matching Sam's backward step with a forward step of his own. "Never a way to escape your destiny. Never a way to escape me."

Sam's chest tightened and his fingers scraped against the stones behind him. His mind was screaming NO over and over. This was not what was supposed to happen. Dying hadn't exactly been part of the plan, but dying was so much better than this. Being this close to the monster who had destroyed him left his body shaking and his mind reeling.

No matter what choice he made, the result was always going to be the same. It was a true Devil's Bargain and, just like every other time in his life, Sam knew it would end badly.

The threat of death by a group of freaky vampires didn't hold the terror it might have an hour ago. It wasn't even a threat anymore; in fact it looked like a pretty damn fine way to go. If he chose it, though, he knew with every fiber of his being that his death would be as temporary as his last one had been and that was a trauma he was not interested in reliving anytime soon.

No, if he was going to die again, he intended to do it with finality. No take backs. No revivals. No deals or curses or angels or demons or spells or anything else. When he died, he wanted it to be for once and for all.

But right now he was completely at the mercy of the monster who had tortured and wronged him in every way possible. If he said no, Sam knew with absolute certainty that he would have to endure endless painful deaths followed by even more painful resurrections. His stomach twisted at the thought. Already he owed a debt to the devil and the shame of that pressed down on him until he could barely draw breath.

Swallowing hard, he tried to sound defiant as he said, "Fine. Let's go."

"Not keen on being a chew toy again, I guess." The devil raised an eyebrow. "We'll get to the camp soon enough."

Sam locked his knees, his skin crawling.

"Right now I thought it would be great to spend a little more quality time together." The devil's smile was sickening as he leaned closer. "Just you and me."

Sam didn't hesitate. He pushed away from the wall and sprinted toward the crowd of vampires. Anything would be better than…

He hit the far wall face first with a force that left him gasping for breath and seeing stars.

Not again. Not again. Not again!

"Yes, again."

The evil was palpable and the hand that ran down his side was like a blade of ice, tearing him into pieces.

"I've missed you, bunk buddy."

Sam closed his eyes.

As the devil took what he wanted from him, the last hopeful piece of his already shattered heart splintered into oblivion.

The pain was staggering and so much worse than it had been in the Cage.

There were no tears left to cry. He was alive, yet devoid of life. Empty. Hollow. The futility of it all swept over him and the rush of desolation deafened him to what the devil was saying. The same taunts, the same whispered horrors he'd spoken in the darkness of the Cage, he spoke them again now as he enveloped Sam in the nightmare he'd never really escaped and never would.

Sam endured, locked in the familiar place in his head. The place where he had found the only solace available to him during those years in the Cage. Everything around him - the dark cave, the vampire hoard salivating and watching from only a few yards away, the damp stone wall under his fingers - faded. Everything being done to him - things he'd experienced over and over in the Cage, things he'd dared to dream he'd never experience again - faded.

In that tiny corner of his mind, he was at peace. It was dark, but not in the way the Cage had been. It was dark and warm and quiet.

The voice was still there, in his ear, too loud and much too close, but he couldn't make out what was being said and he was grateful. He knew it wasn't over and retreated further into the soft warmth of his hiding place.

Sam wished he'd never left. Wondered if he had actually left. Turning away from those thoughts, he approached the warmth, tight muscles loosening with every step that brought him closer.

Too often, the devil's voice was a loudspeaker shout that tore him back to unwilling consciousness. Too often, the sensations of what was happening to him tore him away from the warmth and sent him straight back to screaming awareness. It was all so familiar, the desperate attempt to run so far into the dark that he wouldn't be found. The longing to find the warmth that was always so close and yet just out of reach.

His cheek scraped against the rough stones in reality, but the lure of the familiar warmth drew him deeper into his mind. Sam had never discovered the source of the warmth. Never understood what was guiding him through the black. Yet he never could stop seeking.

Maybe this time he would find the warmth.

Maybe if he found the warmth, he would never have to leave.

Sam had lost the battle every other time. Had never been able to fight the pull of reality long enough to truly escape. Doubt filled him. Why would this time be any different?

"It isn't different, Sam," the voice shouted, breaking a crack in the darkness. "It's always been like this and it always will be. Stop fighting me."

Reality broke through.

Blinding light flooded his eyes, pain coursed through his body, and he heard himself scream.

He fought, knowing it would do no good; that it was already too late. But he fought. He fought even though it made the pain worse; even though it was pointless. The warmth was fading and if he didn't reach it soon he wouldn't have another chance for a very long time.

A bolt of pain ran through him as he reached out for the warmth.

And then he was there.

His world splintered.

It was an out of body experience, and heaven knew he'd had enough of those in his lifetime. Sam felt everything and nothing. He was ice cold and comfortably warm. The darkness and light flickered, leaving him dizzy and disoriented.

Sam blinked hard. Sharp stones bit his cheek as he stared at the hoard of vampires held back by the same monster who was pressing him against the wall of the tunnel. And then he blinked again and gasped. The pain and brightness and chill of the tunnel disappeared and, for the first time, he saw the source of the warmth.

"Dean."

Awe filled him as he stared at his brother, or rather, the mental image of his brother. The warm, peaceful darkness he'd found so comforting when things had been at their absolute worst now made sense. His arms were held by crushing bonds or he would have reached out to the illusion of his brother. Seeing him reignited a flicker somewhere deep inside of him that he hadn't even realized had been snuffed out.

"He's not here and he's not going to save you from me. He's not going to save you from this."

It was the truth and Sam knew it. There was no saving him at this point. Maybe there never had been any possibility of him being saved. Maybe this was all he was ever meant for and he just needed to accept it.

"That's right, Sammy. You were always meant for this. You've tried so many times to escape your destiny."

It was true. It seemed as if his entire life had been spent trying to escape.

Maybe it was time to accept his destiny.

If anything should have convinced him, it was the fact that he'd just been brought back to life by his tormentor. Sam was slipping dangerously, but he kept his eyes focused on the fading image of his brother. Reality crept closer as he thought about Dean. His brother who was out there, right now, trying to find their mother and Jack.

Seeing his brother, even if it was just an image created by his desperate subconscious, fanned the tiny spark of faith into something a little bigger; something a little warmer. It was something he could hold onto. Hope was gone, perhaps forever. But even if he didn't have hope, perhaps he still had faith.

In his brother.

In his friends.

And then it was over.

He fell forward onto his knees, hands squishing into mud instead of sharp rock. The safe place where he'd hidden himself while the devil had done his worst dissolved and he found himself back outside in the woods. The transition from the tunnel to the outside was jarring and he clenched his fists in the mud, trying to catch his breath. He squeezed his eyes closed and shuddered when the devil leaned close and whispered in his left ear.

"What do you say?"

"Thank you," the automatic response learned from hundreds of years in the cage spilled from his lips before he could help himself, his voice scream-torn and hoarse.

"Good boy."

Sam leaned forward and threw up into the mud.

This was not supposed to have happened. He'd been safe. For a short period, anyway, he'd been safe. Safe in a different reality, a different world, while his tormenter had been bound and leaking grace in another. He'd dared to hope. Dared to smile and to think maybe, just maybe they were going to win this one.

But now the devil was here and he'd brought Sam back to life, used him without mercy, put him back together like nothing had happened, and expected a thank you for what he'd done. Vomiting until he was lightheaded, Sam nearly fell over.

Would have fallen over if not for the hand that suddenly gripped his hair and yanked him upright.

"Get up." The false-friendly tone was gone. Steel anger was in its place. "I want to see my son."

Black spots dancing in his vision, Sam was pulled to his feet and shoved forward. He stumbled into a tree, shards of pain tearing through his body as he moved. Bracing a hand on the tree, he leaned forward and coughed and spit into the dirt. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth and blinked back the dark spots until he could see the forest around them.

The hand was back in his hair, yanking his head up, the voice venomous as it hissed, "Move."

He moved.

Tripping, stumbling, he moved. Every step he took brought him closer to the destination that had brought them to this world in the first place. It also brought pure evil closer to his family and friends and Sam had never been more powerless in his entire life. Always at the mercy of evil. Always bringing it to everyone he cared about. No matter hard how he tried, this was what happened every time. His eyes burned with tears and he wished like he'd never wished before that he could just die.

Time went hazy and his mind, if not his body, went numb.

Vaguely he knew hours were passing him by but he couldn't focus enough to sort out how long they'd been walking. They didn't stop. Not for even a short break. Not for any rest when darkness fell. Not for water or food or anything else. His legs ached, heavy and clumsy as he stumbled through the woods and he lost count of how many times he fell. Head pounding, he was dizzy and disoriented, exhausted and ashamed.

As they traversed the wilderness, his unwelcome companion kept up an unending monologue the entire time. Sam was too tired to pay any attention to what was being said, nor did he really want to know. His nagging travel companion did, however, ensure he kept walking when all he wanted to do was fall over and die.

He wouldn't be permitted to die, of course, that was obvious. They were attacked several times along the way and every single time he'd been too slow to even hope to defend himself. He never needed to because the devil took care of every threat. It only made everything worse; knowing he was continually in debt to the devil for saving his life was agony.

How was he supposed to face Dean after this? Cas? Jack? How was he supposed to face his mother?

He tripped over an exposed root and caught himself at the last minute. Bracing his hands on his knees, he sucked in painful breaths. The sky was lighter now and, less than a mile away, he could make out what looked like a camp. He straightened and squinted, trying to bring it into focus. Camouflaged and blending into the woods around it, the settlement was barely discernible.

His mouth went dry and his heart skipped a beat.

They were at the camp.

A hand clapped him on the shoulder and he flinched away only to have the grip become a vice, clamped on so tight he thought his shoulder would shatter.

"Listen closely, Sammy," the voice that had haunted him for eleven years whispered. "Cross me in any way and I will take you again. Right there in the dirt in front of them. Make everyone watch. And then I'll gut your angel friends. And then I'll tear your precious mother into tiny shreds. And then I'll slit Dean's throat and let you watch him bleed out."

Sam squeezed his eyes closed, legs shaking as he leaned forward to vomit.

"And when your family and friends are all in pieces in front of you," the devil's voice was soft, his touch tender as he ran his fingers through Sam's hair, "and my son is by my side, your pain will have only just begun."

He was tugged upright and pressed against a tree, hate-filled eyes shining as they stared at him. Sam was no stranger to the hate. No stranger to the terror. No stranger to the monster standing before him. He, of all people, knew the threat the devil posed. He, of all people, knew how evil, how dangerous, how unspeakably cruel he was. He should have fought, should have been angry. He should have been stronger. Should have done something.

But there wasn't anything left in him. He wasn't sure there was anything left of him.

A malevolent smile appeared on the devil's face as he whispered, "Cross me and I will do things to you that you never experienced in our entire time together down below. You'll never be free."

Sam's entire body shook.

"Are we clear?"

He nodded, unable to speak.

The smile widened and the devil patted him on the cheek. "Good boy. Let's go meet the fam, shall we? I'll let you go in first, make sure you set the stage for my grand entrance. Just remember I'll be watching you."

Sam started walking again, praying there was a sentry or a guard. Praying someone would shoot him in the head.

What did he have to lose?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
